


Retribution

by Cerberusia



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Masochism, Sadism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: Rey considers the cabling that now lies on the deck. She picks it up again and wraps it around her hand: it's long and flexible. She takes three strands, holds one end, and gives them an experimental swish. Her first attempt is limp - too long. She gets out her vibroknife again and shears half a decimetre off, then has a second go.This time, theycrack.





	Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, a sequel to Penance! This is not TLJ-compliant, since Penance was written well before TLJ came out and several details have been jossed - though not, I am very pleased to say, the Force bond. I'm not used to canon being kind to my ships anyway, but Force Skyping was MORE THAN I COULD HAVE WISHED FOR.

Coruscant lives up to its name, not that Rey sees much of it. She doesn't like how crowded it is, like the worst market day on Jakku. She's sure pickpockets are everywhere, and keeps a tight grip on her staff. Ren knows exactly where he's going, so she follows him closely and watches for any flash of red.

They don't have public whippings on Coruscant: that's a practice best left to barbaric Outer Rim shitholes. Some people on Jakku would ask how they kept public order without it, but Rey never saw that it made much difference. Next time you just knew to be sneakier.

At least there are seedy bars on Coruscant, just like there were on Jakku. The smell isn't quite the same, but it's close enough to be unpleasantly familiar. Wearing Rose's sister's battered cast-offs, Rey fits right in. Ren fits in about as well as he does anywhere, and sensibly opts to keep his hood up and lurk in the shadows - but nobody pays them any mind. There's a cross-section of the whole galaxy around them in the dimly-lit bar, species Rey has never seen and couldn't name.

"A friend of my father's," says Ren when she asks who they're waiting for. The live band in the corner covers their conversation, so she has to lip-read. _What friend of Han's would talk to you?_ she wonders.

A human - medium height, Finn's colouring, expensive clothes - enters the room, and Kylo Ren's attention immediately sharpens. Rey doesn't see anything immediately special about him - but no, the bartender's eyes immediately go to him, as if awaiting his order. He pauses, as if taking in the band's current song; but Rey recognises the cool calculation in his face beneath the smile. This man owns the bar.

He pivots, surveying his business - and comes to an abrupt stop when his eyes find Kylo Ren glowering under his hood in the corner. His eyebrows go up and his eyes bug out - surprise, a tiny frisson of fear.

"Ben!" he says, faux-heartily. Ren is - unintentionally? - colouring her perception of him, she realises, and she struggles to form her own impressions. "Haven't seen you in _years_..." Kylo Ren's younger mental image of him briefly overlays the real man. There's barely any difference; but she knows that Ren broke with anybody who would have known him as 'Ben' nearly ten years ago.

"Lando," says Ren, with his usual gravitas. He isn't smiling, and 'Lando' smiles wider as if trying to make up for it. One of his white teeth has a little chip.

Rey feels herself starting to return the smile, seduced by her new acquaintance's charisma. He's a grifter, of course - she recognises the style - but he's the most charming swindler she's ever met, maybe even more than Han. The smile very nearly reaches his eyes.

He turns his attention to Rey with a theatrically courteous bow, like something out of an old holo-vid.

"And you..." He doesn't even get a chance to ask her name before Ren cuts him off.

"A friend...of my father's." For a moment, Rey thought he was just going to describe her as 'a friend'. She doesn't think she could have stayed quiet for that. Her new acquaintance just keeps smiling at her, and turns his head a fraction so he can tip her a wink out of Ren's sight. Does he know what 'Ben' has been doing since he last saw him? No, he has no idea - though he may be rapidly developing one.

_If you keep staring at him like you're fantasising about killing him, he's going to call the authorities._ This is almost certainly not true, but Rey is fed up with being cut out of the conversation.

An image of a basement flashes into her head. She doesn't recognise the substance in the clear barrels, but she understands why 'Lando' might not want the authorities investigating him too closely. She doesn't know why Ren finds it so funny, though.

Watching the two of them negotiate is frustrating, because the negotiation is carefully coded. She can understand that it's _happening_ , but doesn't have the frame of reference to catch the allusions they make, what they're saying by not saying. It doesn't help that neither of them will finish a sentence: they just keep trailing off meaningfully. Rey can't help - Ren hasn't even told her what they're negotiating for. Being kept in the dark while Ren holds all the cards is making her itch.

_I just threatened him,_ Ren informs her. The image of the barrels again flashes into her head.

It takes her a minute of cryptic half-sentences to realise that Ren was probably trying to be helpful. She almost wishes he wouldn't bother. If he stops being helpful, the Resistance is screwed, but she'll be able to kill him with impunity.

At last, Lando's smile grows even wider. Both men straighten up. Business is concluding.

"One hand?" He holds out his own. Rey doesn't think he's proposing to literally exchange it, but the negotiation has been so impenetrable thus far that it's not beyond the bounds of possibility.

"Corellian Spike," Kylo Ren confirms. They shake on it, Ren's hand dwarfing Lando's. Lando looks charmingly rueful.

"Now, Ben, you know Corellian Spike hasn't been kind to me in the past..."

"It won't be this time, either." Ren flashes a hint of teeth, and after a moment Rey realises that this is a smile, and that was an attempt at friendly joshing. It's just that Ren's voice makes everything he says come out as a threat.

Lando doesn't look discomfitted at all. He's a cool customer; or maybe Ren has always been like this, even when Lando last met him. Rey can imagine him as an off-puttingly monotone sulky teenager.

'One hand', it turns out, refers to sabacc. Rey has seen it played before, and has a vague understanding of the suits and rules - but not in its 'Corellian Spike' variant, which brings a six-sided die into play. She watches Lando and Ren play without understanding.

_Open your mind. Who's winning?_ If it wouldn't break Ren's concentration and potentially lose them whatever the stake is, Rey would smack him on the arm. Then again, he might enjoy that.

Lando and Ren continue to play. Rey watches expressions flit across their faces; but neither of them give anything away. Of course they don't - they're both, as she has rapidly realised, excellent card-players. Lando makes sense, but Ren...of course. Han probably taught his son to cut cards in infancy.

Frustrated, she finally does as Ren suggested (not ordered - he doesn't have the authority to order her around) and relaxes her mind. She thinks of it as opening up small windows in her mind, so that she can see out. Luke taught her the technique, with the strict instruction that she shouldn't lean too far out of the windows, metaphorically speaking, lest she draw the attention of Force-sensitive species.

The emotions of other patrons of the bar pushes at the back of her mind - mostly a mixture of conviviality and nervy anticipation, with occasional flashes of resentment or hilarity. Rey ignores them and focusses on the players in front of her.

Both Ren and Lando are tense, focussed on the game. Ren reveals his hand: a waft of triumph emanates from Lando's mind, though the same easy-going smile stays on his face. Ren feels a flicker of irritation.

_Lando's winning,_ she tells him. _I hope this is part of your strategy, because if you lose then this has been a complete waste of time._ A tiny, mean part of her _wants_ Kylo Ren to lose, so that she'll have an excuse to castigate him. She _hates_ having to rely on his 'help'.

She's not surprised when he wins. Call it Force-sensitivity, call it intuition - she knew for certain when Ren picked the game that it would end in his favour. Ren is impulsive and intuitive, and like his father in some ways that Rey's sure he isn't even aware of; but he's not a gambler.

There's silence round the table as they all gaze at the winning hand: two, three, four.

_The Idiot's Hand,_ Ren smugly informs her. _It trumps all in sabacc._ Rey can feel the undercurrent to his words, a desire to teach her things from the ways of the Force down to the rules of sabacc. She's already told him to piss off because she's not interested in learning _anything_ from him. It might be more convincing if she genuinely weren't just that little bit interested.

Finally, Lando clears his throat and says something that Rey does understand.

"Haven't seen your dad around lately," he says. "Is it..." He waves his hand. "...True?"

"Yes." Ren presses his lips together and stares into Lando's eyes. Expressions flit across Lando's face - shock, grief - but not the raw disbelief with which Rey is now so familiar. He'd already heard that Han Solo was dead. In his heart, he'd already known. He takes a ragged breath and reaches inside his elegant robes.

"I guess you wouldn't have asked for this if it wasn't. And I guess I wouldn't be carrying it around if I didn't think you or your mom would come for it, sooner or later."

'This' is round and pearlescent blue, with flashes of red, green and yellow fire, and it would fit in the palm of Rey's hand. She watches as Lando hands it reverently to Kylo Ren, who accepts it in his cupped hands before secreting it in some pocket or pouch.

"So, when was the last time you saw your mom?" Lando presses him. What has he guessed?

"Not for a while," says Ren, coolly. Lando purses his lips. There are lines in the corners of his eyes that Rey hadn't noticed before.

"Look, Ben, I don't know what you're doing these days, what you've been doing - but you need to go home and see your mother." He spreads his hands helplessly. "Ben, your father is _dead_. She needs you."

"My father is dead," Ren repeats, soft and monotone. He says nothing more.

Rey seethes for the entire trip back to the Falcon. _You have a family. You have a family who would have taken you back._ Ren gives no sign of hearing her, but she hardly cares if he does. It would serve him right for listening.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of Ren fiddling with something in his pocket. She gathers herself enough to ask,

"What _is_ it, anyway?"

"A Tear of Naboo." Ren's face is set. "My grandmother was a Naboo Queen. When it was made public that my mother was Padmé Amidala's natural daughter, the Naboo gave her this. She passed it to Lando." He doesn't explain why Leia would pass the gem to Lando, or why he now needs it, but Rey is distracted by the realisation that although he refers to Han by his name, he still calls Leia _my mother_. A strange and unwilling intimacy tugs at her, born of discovering something about Kylo Ren that he himself hasn't realised.

She pushes it aside ruthlessly. Maybe if he turns rabid again and kills his mother, he'll call her 'Leia' too.

While Ren sweeps the ship for bugs and programs in their next coordinates, Rey takes out her feelings in the way she most prefers: on the _Falcon_. Her internal wiring is a mess, everything kludged together out of incorrect wires and tape. It's a wonder she hasn't exploded yet. In the interests of lowering the likelihood of them burning to death one lightspeed jump, Rey's ongoing project is to re-wire the hyperdrive circuits into something approximating neatness.

She fumes the entire time she's cutting and splicing cables, even with the satisfaction of cutting out a whole length of completely superfluous wiring. It's not that she doesn't understand selfishness: on Jakku, you always looked out for number one. Not prioritising yourself got you an empty stomach and not much gratitude.

But she also has a _conscience_ , the conscience that forbade her to hand over BB-8 to Plutt, the conscience that keeps her in the Resistance, the conscience that kept her _waiting for her parents_. She would always have hated whoever killed Han, but what she can't bear is that it was his _son_ , that Kylo Ren killed his own father who still _loved_ him when for all she knows she'll never see her parents again because they're _already dead_ -

She has to stop when she feels tears pricking at her eyelids. She will _not_ cry. Ren would know. She stares at the deck grille until the feeling passes - but the empty space in her chest where anger would live is still there.

Rey considers the cabling that now lies on the deck. She picks it up again and wraps it around her hand: it's long and flexible. She takes three strands, holds one end, and gives them an experimental swish. Her first attempt is limp - too long. She gets out her vibroknife again and shears half a decimetre off, then has a second go.

This time, they _crack_.

She doesn't think about what she's doing as she plaits the ends into a handle. She doesn't think about what she's doing to use it for. _A good person wouldn't-_ Rey isn't a good person. Good people don't survive on Jakku, and above all Rey is a survivor.

Rey wraps her newly-made whip around her fist. She goes hunting.

Kylo Ren is on the bridge, imputing their course. Rey waits in the living quarters and lets him enter the coordinates, breathing deeply and feeling the tension rise up in her belly. The handle of her makeshift whip is getting sweaty.

As soon as he straightens up, she concentrates on their 'backchannel' and projects a single image: her hand, holding the whip.

He's in the living quarters a moment later. His great dark eyes bore into hers. She can feel his pulse, hear it in his ears as he hears it. He's even more excited about this than she is. He's imagining the sting of the whip already. Rey knows he has an erection, but she ignores it. That's none of her concern.

"Turn around. Take off your tunic. _Just_ the tunic." On Jakku, criminals would be completely stripped for a public beating, but Rey doesn't want to be faced with that much naked Kylo Ren.

Ren scrambles to do as she says, hauling his tunic over his head and dropping it on the deck. Rey watches the muscles in his back flex. She'd known, of course, that he was physically fit; but she hadn't realised that he was so brawny underneath his clothes. His shoulders are huge. If neither of them could wield the Force, in a straight physical fight - he could snap her neck.

Unless she gouged his eyes out first. Rey has grappled with opponents much bigger than she, before she grew wise enough to avoid them. Size isn't the only thing that matters in a fight.

"Hands on the wall." There aren't any hooks around to attach grav-cuffs to, so she can't literally string him up - even though she'd love to do this with his arms pulled over his head as he dangled, helpless.

Kylo Ren puts his hands on the wall at shoulder height. It'll do. Rey cracks her whip of wires and watches a shiver run through Ren's body.

_Please._

The whip comes down hard and fast, with a _snap_ as it hits Kylo Ren's bare back. Ren hisses through his teeth and arches his back. The whip leaves three welts, like a loth-cat's claws. The skin isn't broken - yet.

Rey readies the whip for the second strike while staring at the welts. She raises her arm, takes a swing, _crack_ \- three more welts across Kylo Ren's back, between his shoulderblades, and Ren's shoulders heave as the force of the blow rings through him. She can feel excitement, anticipation, and she can't tell what's hers and what's his.

_Crack_. Ren groans and his head falls forward, his hot cheek resting against the cold metal of the bulkhead. Rey finds herself breathing more heavily. This is punishment, it's meant to be punishment - but she can feel Ren's pleasure, every blow only exciting him further.

Infuriated, she lashes him again, and again, sharp stinging lines on his back, the ends of the wires biting into his flesh. Ren clutches at the smooth metal bulkhead and gasps with every hit. Rey keeps whipping him, rocking back and forth with the power she puts into her strokes, her arm extending overhead to bring the whip down with all her strength. One blow breaks the skin, and Ren cries out at the sharp bite of the thong. A thin trickle of blood flows from the wound, but he doesn't beg her to stop.

_Yes, yes-_ Ren imagines his own back criss-crossed with cruel red lines of sweet fiery pain, and a surge of sexual excitement sweeps through Rey. She strikes him again - he jerks and shouts - her cunt throbs so hard that she has to put a hand between her legs. She keeps it there for the next blow, and when Ren lets out a guttural groan her knees nearly give out. She's feeling Kylo Ren's excitement as well as her own, hot lust pulsing between them through their Force-bond.

_You deserve this,_ she snarls in his head, and Kylo Ren's mind reaches out to hers, laying bare its fantasies. Ren wants her to flog his chest - an image of it covered in red welts - and to yank his head back by the hair again while she throttles him - her own thin fingers wrapped around his heaving throat - and to please, _please_ slap him like she did last time, he's thought about it _so much_.

He's impossible. Even hard, demeaning physical punishment just becomes a sordid masturbatory fantasy for him. Rey is so angry, and she _hates_ that she has no way to hurt him like he's hurt her because he'd done it to himself, hadn't he? He'd killed his own father just to prove he could, and neither of them will ever forgive him.

_On the floor._ She doesn't know whether she says it aloud or just thinks it, but Kylo Ren all but throws himself onto the deck at her feet, knees wide apart, his weight balanced on shaking arms. She whips him again, a brutal stroke that opens bleeding lines on his back, and feels vicious satisfaction as his arms give out and he sprawls forward in supplication.

_Please,_ he begs her, supplying a wealth of images, fantasies, promises. He wants to be slapped, to have his face jammed into her cunt, to be flogged, to be treated roughly and humiliated in a variety of eye-watering ways. Rey seizes on a memory of his tongue beating and sucking her clit, and both their hips jerk at the same time.

She rubs her cunt through her leggings as she strikes him again, watches him jerk and groan on the deck. This is for her pleasure, not for his. She lashes him with the whip again and again, as hard as she possibly can, and every _crack_ and every desperate cry pushes her higher and higher, making her work her cunt frantically.

_Please,_ he begs her again, incoherent words and images battering at her mind. _I need-_ She can feel how desperate he is, how absolutely wild she's made him. An image of his hard-on intrudes, aching and almost as wet as she is, and if she'll only bring the whip down on his back a few more times he'll come-

She stops.

She's panting, she realises, gasping for air as hard as Kylo Ren is. Her underwear is soaked, and she can't stop her fingers from rubbing at her clit in hard circles.

On the deck, Kylo Ren groans in desperation. He raises his head to look at her, and for the first time since she brought the whip down, she sees his face. It's red and stained with tears.

"Please," he says out loud, in a wobbly and broken voice, "please, whip me, punish me-" He turns his head to kiss her boot sloppily. " _Ngh,_ please, Rey."

With her boot, she slowly presses his face back down to the deck. He submits with a moan of relief that she hardly hears over the blood pounding in her ears.

She whips him. Not because he asked her; not even because he begged her. She whips him because it feels good to hear him howl when she opens fresh wounds on his shoulders. It makes her cunt throb when he lets out guttural groans of pain and aching pleasure as she scourges his flesh, makes each blow count. It makes bolts of lightning race down her spine and the hot pulsing pleasure draw tighter and tighter when with each strike of the whip that threatens to flay skin from bone, his open mind reveals the abject truth: right now, Kylo Ren would let her do anything she wanted to him.

She whips - scourges - Kylo Ren into a gasping, sobbing, cramping orgasm, and the feeling washes over her and drags her in too. The whip drops from her nerveless fingers as she doubles over, mouth open as pulses of fiery, aching pleasure shoot through her, blind her, make it feel like the top of her head has come off and her spine is liquefying.

When she comes back to herself, her knees are sore from crumpling to the deck. Kylo Ren is still lying in front of her, great torso heaving as he gasps for breath. His back is a mess of whip-marks.

Before she can move, he hauls himself up to crawl forward a foot - and collapses with his head in her lap. He's still crying. She nearly shoves him away in disgust, but her arms are as floppy and useless as her legs, so he lies there, still trembling. She's trembling, too.

He's saying something.

"Thank you," he's saying into her thigh, voice thick and wet, "thank you, thank you."


End file.
